I and love and you
by lydiastilinskio
Summary: "You've always been mine," he tells her quietly. He takes a deep breath, his hands cradling her soft face gently. His eyes are dancing with hers once again, as he is willing her to believe the words that come from his mouth. "And always have been and always will be yours," he whispers. "You know that, don't you?" - 3x07, Quinn/Puck one-shot.


**_I and love and you_**

"Your mom let me in," Puck says quietly as he leans on the door frame. She doesn't turn around and look at him. She remains silent and still, her legs curled up to her bottom as she lies on top of the covers. He shoves his hands in his pockets nervously, much like he did when he serenaded her in the choir room last year.

So much has changed since that year. For one, Quinn was no longer the happy cheerleader and he was no longer the promiscuous bad boy. The laugh lines on her face had long since faded, her green eyes now glisten with tears rather than hope. She had somehow changed him into someone that was capable of being selfless and someone who could love someone else with his whole heart.

He unconsciously found himself standing in front of her vanity, his hazel eyes trained on a picture that is taped to the side of the mirror, at eye level if he were to sit down on the stool. He automatically smiles, just like in the picture. "That's my favorite picture," Quinn says quietly from the bed.

He turns around and offers her a small smile, his gaze shifting between her and the picture. "Mine too," he tells her.

The silence envelops them ones more. It's tainted with unspoken sadness and indescribable hopelessness. He watches as she gazes at the mirror, almost as if she was trying to decipher who the girl that was looking back at her. "Beth said her first word," was the next thing that comes out of his mouth. "She said music. I thought she was making a cow sound, but then Shelby told me that Beth was actually saying music."

He expects her face to crumple into sadness, the waterworks falling from her eyes. She doesn't. Instead, her lips turn up into a soft smile. It's not quite happy, but it's not tainted with despair. She opens her mouth to say something; to voice the question on the tip of her tongue that asks: did she say mama yet?

She remains silent until he can't take it anymore. He shrugs off his shoes and crawls into bed next to her. She doesn't fight him on the closeness, she embraces it. His arms snake around her middle, her arms covering hers as if she doesn't want him to let go.

They lay in silence, his strong arms wrapped around her fragile frame.

Quinn thinks about how different her life would have been if she had of just listened to him in the first place, if she had of been more selfish, and if she had of kept her daughter. She thinks that she would probably have grey hairs, and her clean and pristine bedroom would be in ruins. She would have unmistakable bags under her bright eyes and her near perfect grades would be in the toilet.

But she would have her baby, her perfect thing.

She thinks that maybe she would be happy. She would have the boy, the beautiful baby, the perfect life. She wouldn't fake anymore smiles or cry anymore tears because she would just be happy. But she doesn't have any of that. She didn't have the boy; she didn't have the baby or the perfect life. She faked her smiles and the tears shed like clockwork. She was unhappy.

While these thoughts were running through her head, guilt was running through his. The girl that lies in his arms is vulnerable. She means more to him than he'll ever admit to her, and she gave him the best thing in his life. How could he not feel guilty? He feels like he's betraying her, the biological mother of his daughter for the mom of his daughter. Either way, he is both a father and he is in love.

"What are you thinking about?" she murmurs, her voice barely audible. Even so, he could hear the desperation in her voice. He recognizes it. He hates it.

He shifts uncomfortably, his head lifting reluctantly off the pillow so he can look at her face. She doesn't move, she just remains silent, waiting for him. She can feel the guilt roll off of him in waves, and she feels a confession coming on. "There's something you should know," he tells her tentatively.

When she doesn't say anything, Puck only tightens his grip around her waist, the cushion before the fall. "Shelby and I...I guess we're kind of a thing now," he tells her quietly.

The room fell silent, and the only sound she could hear was the shattering of her already broken heart inside her fragile frame. She wants to cry. She wants to scream and hit him until he's just as broken as she is. She wants to yell at Shelby and hug her daughter. She wants to run away and never look back.

She silently disentangles herself from his embrace, her shaky fingers tucking a piece of blonde hair behind her ear as she folds her arms across her chest and stands at the side of the bed, her gaze void of emotion while she looks at him.

He is now sitting up on the bed, one leg on, one leg off as he waits for her to do something—anything. His hands are clutching one of the pillows, ready for a shield for his face. She doesn't do anything. She never does anything anymore.

She opens her mouth to yell and scream, but no sound comes out. She takes a deep breath and blinks back the tears that are building up behind her eyes. "Does she make you happy?" she asks him, her voice barely a whisper.

He doesn't know how to answer that. He's happy, but is Shelby the cause of his happiness? Or is it because she holds the key to the most precious gem in his world? "I don't know," he answers honestly. "I think so."

Quinn takes a deep breath and sits back on the bed, her legs folded to the side, he dress draping over her body. She can feel his eyes on her. His eyes are always on her. His gaze is almost penetrating and she fears that if she doesn't look now, he'll be gone forever. So she lifts her head, and her gaze locks with his.

She doesn't know how, but she cracks a smile. It's not big, but it's not nothing. She lifts her hand and he thinks that she is going to hit him. His breath hitches in his throat when her fingertips gently trace the familiar contours of his face. She pulls back too soon, his heart aching from the loss of contact. She sucks in a deep breath; her gaze is both weak and strong.

"I know that I'm selfish," Quinn whispers. "I know that I'm flawed. I'm not perfect. I'm ungrateful and childish but I'm also lost. I don't know who I am anymore. Two years ago I would've said I was a scared sophomore who didn't have plans that extended past the ninth month of my pregnancy who loved a boy with everything she had. Last year I would have said I was a girl who is recovering from the biggest heartbreak of them all and this year? This year, I'm lost. I don't know who I am," she lets out a shaky breath and takes his hand in hers.

She expects him to flinch but he doesn't, he simply shudders under her touch. "But you know who I am," she tells him. "I think you've always known, and it's scary. It's scary because I don't think I've ever known someone who cares as much as you do. And I've always been scared because you scare me, Noah. You scare me."

Puck's eyes widen at the sound of his real name. His mom and Rachel are the only ones that call him that, he thought it was a Jewish tradition. But hearing his name fall from Quinn's perfect lips, he thinks he'll drop the nickname altogether. "And I'm scared again," she whispers with tears in her eyes. He watches as the silver liquid clings to her eyebrows, while another runs down her cheek.

He lets it fall because he can't move. He can barely breathe. She's so close, the girl that he knew two years ago is so close, and he doesn't know how to breathe. "Beth is my perfect thing," she tells him again. "She's your perfect thing too," she acknowledges with a ghost of a smile on her face.

He fights the urge to yell at her, shake her small frame and scream in her face that she is his perfect thing. She has been and probably always will be the most beautiful thing in his world. Her green eyes have now released the flood, her cheeks tainted with liquid sadness. "And she's Shelby's perfect thing," Quinn says regretfully. "I was wrong. I'm her mother. I'm Beth's mother. Shelby is her mom. But you—" she whispers, her hand cupping his cheek. "You're her dad. I'm not going to be the one that take that away from you."

"Quinn—"

"Things are never going to go my way. Beth isn't ever going to fully be ours. You're never going to be mine and I'm never gonna be yours. But that doesn't mean that you shouldn't get what you want for once and if that means that Shelby makes you happy," she continues, her voice weak and her eyes tired. "If she makes you happy, then be happy. It doesn't matter to me who you're with, Noah. Just please, do me this one favor and be happy."

Nothing could have prepared him for what happens next. With both hands on either side of his face, she leans forward and brushes her lips against his. The kiss is chaste, but it leaves him wanting more. Quinn pulls away too soon, a soft and broken smile on her lips as she looks at him, her green eyes full of wonder and tears.

She releases his hands from the prison of her own and she lets out a shaky breath. He knows this conversation is over, but he is stunned and he is heartbroken. He wants to pick up the girl in front of him and he wants to kiss her until the sun goes down and then he wants to go and see his daughter, but come back to this girl that has changed his world since they day he met her.

She carefully avoids his gaze and he awkwardly shifts of the bed, unsure of what to say to her. He doesn't know whether to be angry or sad or happy or hopeful or thankful that Quinn basically just gave him and Shelby her blessing to be together, but is that really why he came there? Is that really why held her? For a blessing? Or for himself?

He's now standing in the doorway, while she sits idly on her bed. His eyes narrow out of anger and he turns on his heels. He is now standing directly behind her. She can feel his hot breath on her neck and she stands up and faces him. They now stand toe to toe like they have many times before.

"You're wrong, you know." Puck tells her. His voice is even but his dark hazel eyes are flickering with both desire and pain. She tries her best to blink back her surprise as she folds her arms cross her chest, her green eyes dancing with his as they try to decipher what they want—what they need. "Beth is always gonna be ours," he finally says.

She doesn't know if she can handle going through this again. She opens her mouth to beg him to leave and not look back, she can't keep losing him to girl after girl. But she stays silent, and she stays still, her feet glued to the floor beneath her, her muscles locked into place, her heart hammering inside her too fragile chest.

He takes a small step forward, his face just inches from hers. She can feel his hot breath on her face, while he can taste her perfume on his tongue. Every bone in his body is aching to touch her, his lips yearning to kiss her, his heart desperate to love her. But he can't.

Not yet.

"You've always been mine," he tells her quietly. He takes a deep breath, his hands cradling her soft face gently. His eyes are dancing with hers once again, as he is willing her to believe the words that come from his mouth. "And always have been and always will be yours," he whispers. "You know that, don't you?"

Her breath gets caught in her throat as she looks him in the eyes; the eyes that have told so many lies, scared so many people, sung so many songs, laughed so many times, and loved only once.

"Yes," she chokes out.

And her lips crash against his.

His fingers tangle themselves in her sunshine blonde hair, her hands on the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. The tips of her fingers are massaging his Mohawk as she smiles against his lips. Her heart is hammering inside her chest, threatening to break free from both heartbreak and despair and everything else she feels for this boy, this one boy.

She shudders against his touch as his hands caress the sides of her body until finally landing on her hips, pulling her flush body against his. Her hands are now against his chest, her mind telling her to push him away like she's done a thousand times before, but right now. She needs him. She needs to keep kissing him because he is the only thing that is keeping her together.

Their passionate kiss slows down, his arms winding around her small waist and her hands around his stomach. Puck is the first to pull away, a lazy smile on his face as he rests his forehead against hers. They struggle to catch their breaths, but neither one of them let go.

Their eyes meet for what feels like the first time, and neither one of them are sure of what happens next. So he breaks the silence with the only thing he can tell her – the only thing he knows he feels – the only thing that has kept him going through all the pain he's gone through. "I love you."

And he means it. God, does he mean it. He loves her. He's in love with her. He's always loved her. He liked her when she was Finn's. He meant what he said that night, it wasn't just another hookup for him. He had fallen in love with this amazing, smart, talented, beautiful, albeit selfish and conceited girl who is imperfect in every way, but absolutely perfect for him.

Aside from the fact that their lips mold together perfectly or that they are forever tethered by the most beautiful baby either of them has ever laid their eyes on, he finds himself incomplete without her. He stands there, her cool breath on his face and he wonders how he ever let Quinn Fabray go.

He came over here with the idea that he would be walking out, annoyed and probably angry. He thought that she would be throwing a hissy fit and that he'd be going over to Shelby's and make out with her before Beth wakes up from her nap.

But he has fallen in love all over again. He realizes now, that every time he falls in love, it's always with Quinn. Everything he feels, for what seems like the first and last time, will always be with Quinn.

"I know," she whispers, bringing him out of his thoughts. His eyes lock with hers while a new set of tears linger on her eyelashes. He knows that look. He hates that look. "But I'm no good for you," Quinn tells him. His eyes narrow out of anger. He can read between the lines: I'm no good is what she is saying.

"You're wrong, Quinn. You're perfect—at least to me, you are perfect…" Puck whispers, his voice so full of love and conviction and it makes her heart ache. He wraps his strong arms around her shaking frame and Quinn buries her face in his black t-shirt clad chest. He buries his face in her blonde hair, inhaling the scent of her lavender shampoo, his favorite. "Quinn, if you love me—if you've ever loved me—please do me this one favor and let me love you."

"Shelby…" she begins to object, her voice shaky and empty and weak because she doesn't want to fight him on this. This is one war that she wants him to win. "What about her?" she asks tearfully.

He doesn't care if Quinn is ruining his birthday shirt, he is willing to give her every article of clothing he owns if she would try her tears and let him love her. He shakes his head and pulls away, his strong hands holding Quinn in place as he looks her in the eye. "Is great, but she's not for me."

She takes a deep breath in an attempt to steady her emotions. This boy, he will be the death of her. He makes her feel everything and everything and it's absolutely exhausting. She doesn't know if she can do this; everyone that's ever loved her has left, she's pushed them away. She can't push him away too. "I'll hurt you," she whispers tiredly.

"I'll hurt you too," he admits.

"You'll probably end up hating me."

"I already do hate you," Puck tells her.

It's one of the most honest things he's ever said. He hates her as much as he loves her. But he loves to hate her and he loves to love her.

"I'll break your heart," Quinn tells him, her voice weak. He shrugs his shoulders, a lazy smirk on his face.

"You'll put it back together," he assures. "You'll always put me back together," he thinks to himself.

"I'll walk away when things get hard."

"I'll chase after you," he promises.

"I love you," Quinn whispers honestly, the softest of smiles on her face as she looks at him, her green eyes wide and hopeful.

"I love you," Puck whispers back.

And he means it—God does he mean it.


End file.
